Tag: I am writing

Longing- Legatum book 4- is in the works for an early fall/ later summer release.

Lucy hung up the phone. A smile crossed her lips. The kids were off with Geoff’s sister Michelle, and now a dinner date, alone, just the two of them. It had been entirely too long since they had some time to themselves. Last night had been the kick off to what was turning into a fabulous weekend.

She stood in front of her open closet. She wanted to wear something that made her feel beautiful, something that would remind Geoff of last night. Something that would remind them both that over forty wasn’t old.

Lucy sensed that Geoff had been hit hard by the big four-oh. Middle-aged. Even though it really wasn’t. His family had longevity in their genes, and modern medical science added in the extra boost. Besides Geoff was fit and healthy. His doctor declared it about his insides, as well as the obvious physical appearance. Lucy felt that forty was just the beginning. Then again she also felt that her kids kept her young. Tonight she was going to remind Geoff they were nowhere near being old.

Red would set off her pale skin and black hair. Turquoise would light up her eyes to a neon blue. And then there was always basic black. Her closet was full of basic black. Her closet wasn’t the gloriously large walk-in type she used to have, it was slightly deeper than two hanger’s widths and as wide as half the bedroom. She knew in the depths there had to be a sexy red dress. Lucy dug into the corner, cursing how she wished she had a flashlight. Clothes pressed against her back and felt uncharacteristically heavy. She cursed again as she discovered just how many of her clothes had slipped from their hangers and were piled up in the back.

I need to clean this thing out. I bet I can give half of these to Stacey. Her daughter was about the same size now, and had a flair for style that Lucy no longer embraced. She unearthed a lone shoe, tossing it to the other side of the closet.

Lucy came up for air, sitting on her haunches just outside of the open closet. She pulled a heap of random clothes with her. Everything was black, or beige. Not beige, taupe. She had gone through a phase where she only wore black white or taupe. She had been very stylish, but also fairly conservative for her own tastes. A glint of red caught her eye as she shifted the pile.

“Camp NaNoWriMo is a virtual writer’s retreat, designed for maximum flexibility and creativity. We have Camp sessions in both April and July, and we welcome word-count goals between 30 and 1,000,000. In addition, writers can tackle any project they’d like, including new novel drafts, revision, poetry, scripts, and short stories.” –from their website

I am taking this opportunity play along with Camp NANO, and the writer support I find there to power through the rest of the stripper shorts. This excerpt is “RAW” and unedited, cranked out just this month.

The music changed dramatically from loud and booming, to tinkling and light. Christmas music filled the air, and Katie could hear the woman next to her singing along with the music.

The stage curtains slid open revealing a man half dressed in a Santa suit lounging on a throne. Two ripped men dressed as elves pushed the throne forward down stage. The audience squealed in excitement and delight.

The “Santa” lounged on the throne. It was elaborate, tall gilded, ornate, it was everything that a throne should be. The “Santa” was not. He defied anyone’s preconceived notion of whata Santa was. There was no body fat on the man, he was lean and muscular. His long limbs betrayed his extensive height. His long scarlet robe of velvet, lined in ermine fur, cascaded around his frame, open, displaying an impressive collection of chest andabdominal muscles. Matching red britches and knee high boots completed his costume. There wasn’t a gray or white hair anywhere on his head or face. Thick wavy ginger hair graced his head under a crown of holly leaves and berries, no stocking cap with a ball of fluff on the end for him. The smirk across his facedenoted his withering scorn for the scene before him. He kicked lazily in time to the music.

Now that’s a bad-ass man who clearly drinks tea. Holy Crap! Katie covered her mouth in an excited silent scream as she realized she could leverage tonight’s show for her blog. She let out a particularly loud cat-call to celebrate that this evening had just become a tax write-off. It looked like the wishing tea really did work.

The elves slid the throne back and to the side. Katie recognized her morning ogle victim as one of the two elves. Katie’s jaw dropped open. She had thought he looked hot and cute wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Now, shirtless with an open vest, poofy pants, and curly-toed shoes, he made a ridiculous elf costume look sexy. Santa deigned to get off of the throne. He tossed his long velvet cloak back onto the throne, the elves flanked him.

Three sexually-intimidating, ripped, with more abs than should be legal, Christmas characters stood poised ready to thrill.

Cats are tough, characters are tricky. You have to encompass all that is that person into a few collection of letters.

Think about it. How does your name define you? You have had your entire life to create that definition for your collection of letters.

Typically my characters come with names. I am currently working on a collection of Holiday short stories for release in the fall. Sometimes the characters tell me their names, sometimes their names are a struggle.

In Bang a Drummer I knew the male was Lance. A friend laughed at me and told me that was appropriately phallic. I had NEVER made that connection before. I was having issues with the female lead, she wasn’t very forthcoming with her identity.

Since I am playing with some twists based on Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night, same friend (who laughed about Lance) helped me with some derivatives on names. She was smart and informed me that Viola is a variation of Violet, and this led to the name Lettie. Something I had not thought of: she Googled variations of the name. My idea of twisting names is to take the character I’m using as inspiration and mash it up with something I know. Example: Sebastian, so I, of course, think of Sebastian Stan, and thus the character is now named Bucky.

In Calling Bird, my main male character is a rocker turned stripper. He’s a “classic” rocker boy, ripped-off sleeves, leather, studs, long hair. And, because I appreciate the glam of hair bands, he wears a little guy-liner. I wanted a name that ended in the ee sound: Nikki, Johny, Robbie, Ronnie, Tony, Billy. Came up with a brilliant name, started writing with it, my character liked it, settled into it like a comfortable denim jacket. Then the name started to rub funny, it got uncomfortable and itchy. Turns out it was the name of a medical specialist we saw when my kid was an infant. Scratch that one off the list. Ended up with Lonnie Rose. He had at least three names before settling on that one. The heroine, she was easy peasy. Waltzed right in, her name is Ava, she’s a nurse. It was like she just handed me her credentials, I knew all I needed to know immediately.

These are the couple names I have so far for ...currently untitled collection of stripper shorts around a holiday theme…(titles thats a whole ‘nother ball of sticky wax when it comes to names)

This is unedited RAW, straight from whatever project I happen to be typing away on. I definitely have a goal in mind, and this (in some edited form) should see the light of day this time next year.

Glori leaned back in her deck chair and tried to read. A loud attention grabbing laugh did its job, it caught her attention. Cute-but-douchey and his entourage of slimeball friends walked past. She shook her head, why had she thought he was good looking yesterday? The clean hair cut? The broad shoulders? The straight teeth? He was squat and too muscly, he looked like he couldn’t move with any grace, and he was top heavy. Broad thick shoulders and chest muscles hunched over a skinny under-developed abdomen and, stringy legs. Did he not know you should never skip leg day? Glori didn’t work out and even she knew, you never skipped leg day. What had Blaze called him? Jerk-boy. That fit him better. Full of himself, clearly he and his friends all had over-inflated egos. She was just glad she didn’t need to talk to him again. Besides, how could she keep a straight face if she had to speak to him? He wore a yellow speedo, a banana yellow banana hammock.

She snorted at herself, when had she gotten so judgmental on looks? Oh right, when she ended up on a vacation cruise that was clearly more about making appearances than relaxing. Even this morning her mother admitted to having purchased new outfits just for this vacation, right before berating Glori on her choice of outfit. Glori saw nothing wrong with her tank top, a miniskirt, and a men’s dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up worn as a light jacket, and her straw hat.
A group of expensive looking women got out of their deck chairs and sashayed in the same direction of the douche patrol. Glori figured she should lurk behind them, she’d call it observation in the name of anthropology. Yeah, that’s it, say it’s for science, and not morbid curiosity.

She made the appearance of being there for her brother and nephews, but over an hour of sibling neglect and being ignored by the boys since she didn’t swim she felt no guilt getting up and slinking off after the cougar hunt.

She made it to the bar before she chickened out. She couldn’t watch, it was too much like a soap opera, older woman with money, jackass gigolo. She ordered a soda, took her drink and began wandering the decks.